


Waiting Game

by Alethia



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Being Lost, Drinking, Los Angeles, M/M, So much drinking, puking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-22
Updated: 2006-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared had practically kidnapped him, forced him to come to this new whiskey-bar, dared him to try every brand they had, felt him up all night, made obscene comments, got belligerent-drunk, ruined his cell phone – not to mention getting into a fight with a bum about who had the superior guitar skills – and now he’d ass-planted himself in the middle of fucking downtown LA. At 3am.</p>
<p>Jensen was having a bit of a night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting Game

**Author's Note:**

> Theresa is Jensen’s agent. All details about downtown are generally accurate. Written for guede_mazaka. Originally posted on LJ [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/242495.html).

“I could take your ass with my broken hand! Without any—”

“Yeah, you keep talkin’, you snot-nosed brat. My six-string is older than you and could play itself better than—”

“Come over here and say that—”

“Don’t think I won’t, pretty boy. I eat punks like you for—”

“Then come over here! Come on! What’re you waitin’ for?”

“No, sir! Stay over there,” Jensen said, holding onto Jared with one hand and raising the other in a quelling motion. “He’s real sorry about all this, trust me.”

“He better be!”

“I am not!” Jared asserted, rounding on Jensen and stumbling half on top of him in an exceedingly impressive example of just how good Jared was at standing much less at playing guitar against wizened old bums on the street.

“Boy can’t even stand up straight!” The sound of cackling faded as Jensen troop-marched Jared in the other direction, hand tight on Jared’s arm, even as he swayed to and fro…and was he giggling?

“You should see your face!” Jared hooted, throwing off Jensen’s hand and stumbling out into the street, all exaggerated movements and pink, pink cheeks.

Damn him.

Jared was giggling again and swaying, giggling and swaying, and it was making Jensen’s vision go just a little wobbly. Either that or the fourteen whiskeys he’d had. Yeah, maybe that last one wasn’t such a great idea.

“Dude, there is nothing funny about this,” Jensen protested, shaking his head as Jared kind of—twirled? Or did a good impression of turning in circles. In the middle of the street.

Next he was gonna start skipping his way over to skid row. Maybe even play hopscotch. Jensen was just _waiting_ for it.

“There is so much funny about this I don’t even know where to start,” Jared protested, proving his statement by again launching into a series of giggles. “For a start, your cell phone!” Jared slapped his thigh like that memory was the funniest shit since Penn & Teller’s “Bullshit.”

“Yeah and fuck you very much for that, asswipe.”

“I saved you from Theresa. You should be thanking me.”

“If she was calling to offer me the movie, I will never forgive you.”

Jared grinned, all smiley-bright and bouncing on his toes. “You’re a space cadet. Read my lips: the NBA is never gonna let that movie happen.”

“Of course I defer to your superior wisdom and knowledge about the film industry,” he said, laying on the sarcasm thick and tall. “And Theresa is perfectly nice.”

“How would you know? You talk to her maybe once every two months. She could be a shrieking biotch and you’d never know.” 

“And so to save me from this person you’ve never met you decide to throw my cell phone down a waterfall? Are you mental?”

Jared snickered and rubbed his hands together devilishly. “No paying attention to anyone but me, Jensen. Meeee! My night!” He reached the end of the block and decided that the light pole would be an excellent toy to swing round and round. And round. Jesus.

“Wow, you are so annoying.”

“Stop pretending to be mad, Jensen,” he called, still going round the pole and really, starting to make Jen a little sick.

“I am mad. You threw my cell phone down a waterfall. That’s the fourth time my cell has been dunked. Verizon will never insure me again.”

Jared stopped abruptly, hair all fluffy and windblown, eyes alight. “Yeah, the cost of a new cell phone is really gonna break your bank account.” He giggled again.

“I had numbers in that!”

“You have a Blackberry,” Jared called, skipping across the intersection and most assuredly _not_ waiting for the little walking man to tell him he could go.

Menace to good order and society and shit. That was Jared.

Jensen followed him over, frowning. “But still,” he said, knowing it was weak but, uhh, he may have forgotten what they were talking about?

Jared kicked at the curb—in a well-thought-out plan to get the curb to move?—and waved a fluttery hand in Jen’s face. “Aww, Jen, you’re so cute when you’re being a baby. Do it some more!”

“I am not cute,” he protested. He was a seasoned actor, talented, and a good man. Cute was nowhere in there.

“You’re right. You’re dreeeeeeamy,” Jared sighed, folding his hands over his heart and sighing, heartfelt and longing.

“I hate you.”

“Jensen Ackles, turn that frown upside-down!” Jared called, backing away and pointing at him with both hands.

“Oh, my God, can we go?”

“Why? The night is young and I’m—” Jared stopped, frowning, a hand going to his stomach. “Ugh. Shouldn’t have had whiskey after beer.”

“You shouldn’t have had the whiskey at all you ginormous lightweight.”

“We should go to an after-after-party!” Jared proclaimed, making complete and total sense.

Jensen rolled his eyes. “We have a photo-shoot, dude. Eric will murder us twice if we look like pumpkins.”

“That’s not true. Then he’d have no show. ‘Sides, you look hot when you’re hung-over and all puffy-eyed. The camera loves ya, baby!”

Jensen dropped his head, shutting out all the horrible, horrible sights. If only the sounds would go with them.

“Earth to Jenseeeeeen,” Jared sing-songed, making Jensen open his eyes to find Jared waving a hand at him—and what the fuck did he think that was gonna do?—and starting forward, only to trip on a crack, his own clown feet, something, because just like that Jared was on his ass on the pavement.

“Ow,” he said after a beat. “I fell.” He looked up to Jensen, like he needed Jen to fucking confirm it and really, he couldn’t handle it anymore.

Jensen burst out laughing. Jared had practically kidnapped him, forced him to come to this new whiskey-bar, dared him to try every brand they had, felt him up all night, made obscene comments, got belligerent-drunk, ruined his cell phone – not to mention getting into a fight with a bum about who had the superior guitar skills – and now he’d ass-planted himself in the middle of fucking downtown LA. At 3am.

Jensen was having a bit of a night.

He dropped, sitting heavily on the curb, trying to get his breath as Jared just sat there. Looking at him. With his goddamn curls sticking up and shining and all that shit.

Yeah.

“I’m sitting in the middle of the street,” Jared offered, blinking at Jensen.

“Yeah, didn’t your mama ever tell you not to do that?”

“I’m a MADD video waiting to happen,” Jared agreed. Agreed?

“So did you wanna philosophize some more or did you wanna do something about it?” Jensen asked, propping his chin on his hand and watching thoughts flit over Jared’s face.

Apparently, he’d said something of monumental importance because Jared nodded gravely and pushed himself to all fours—all fours? Fuck, there was an image—and then he started crawling, _crawling_ , toward Jensen.

A twelve-foot-tall guy crawling across asphalt should look ridiculous, right?

It didn’t look ridiculous. Jensen cleared his suddenly tight throat and glanced away, checking the street for, you know, people out to kill them and shit. This was downtown LA. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

Then Jared got close and Jen had to look. It was like trying to ignore the fucking sun coming up on you, not exactly something you could do.

But Jared kept on moving, planting a hand in the center of Jensen’s chest and pushing him back onto the concrete—ow—crawling up and on top of him.

“Jared, what the fuck? This is not the time for a wrestling—mmph!” Jared’s mouth latched onto Jensen’s as Jared’s heavy body settled on top of him, not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world, which Jensen would happily tell Jared if Jared’s _tongue_ weren’t busy acquainting itself with Jensen’s _mouth_.

Also, this wasn’t wrestling.

Jensen’s mind skittered off to some faraway land and when it came back to him it was only to discover his hands fisted in Jared’s jacket, pulling Jared down onto him, his mouth responding to Jared’s, lapping at Jared’s lips every time he made space to breathe, his body moving against Jared’s…and oh, no. No way in hell.

That thought taking over, Jensen gripped Jared’s jacket and used it to push him back, the move catching Jared by surprise, evidenced by how he tumbled over Jensen and landed back in the street. In the gutter, to be precise.

Fucking perfect.

Jensen slumped, blinking at the sting of the streetlamp in his eyes, feeling the concrete bite at his back and not caring about any of these things. Hands he could explain away. Comments he could ignore. Tongues down his throat? Not so much.

Jared stirred, moaning a little, and Jensen looked over. He found lazy green eyes peering back at him, blinking fast, before a flash of alarm crossed that face.

“Uh-oh.”

Yeah, it was about time reality knocked on the wood block that was Jared’s—

Jared pushed up with one arm and turned toward the street, the unmistakable sound of him puking his guts out filling the silence between them.

So much for reality.

Fuck. Fucking hell, he hated his life.

Jared finally stopped and seemed to be busy communing with the asphalt, what with the way he wasn’t moving and all. Jensen figured he should probably check to make sure the dumbass was alive. Eric would probably go postal if Jen let Jared die on him, all Eric’s threats of death and face-maiming aside. And Jensen liked him, too, you know, when the kid wasn’t screwing everything up by sticking his tongue down Jensen’s throat.

Huh. He’d just come up with a new way to judge whether or not he liked people. Kudos to him.

“Hey. You alive?” Jensen kicked at Jared’s boot, getting a strangled moan for an answer, so he figured that was an affirmative.

“C’mon. Up! Can’t stay passed out at the corner of 7th and, uhh, Mercury forever.” Putting deed to word, or whatever the fuck that saying was, Jensen levered himself up to standing, the world only spinning marginally so he supposed that was a victory for the righteous and good.

Jared made another gurgling noise but launched himself up to his hands and knees again—ass in the air, just fucking perfect—before collapsing down, thankfully missing his own puke by about a foot.

Well. Jensen had zero desire to make out with him now. Happy days are here a-fucking-gain.

“Dude, seriously.” Jensen kicked at Jared’s boot again. Any other day he’d haul Jared up himself, hold him steady, the whole deal.

Every other day Jared _hadn’t_ climbed on top of him and macked on him so Jensen figured he was excused for hesitating.

“Comin’, Jen, just give me…a sec,” Jared mumbled, body wiggling like he was trying to get comfortable—on the freakin’ asphalt—and Jensen suddenly felt bad for letting him stay there and not helping him up, even with the whole tongue thing. That was bad form.

Jensen sighed. “Dude, you don’t want to stay down there.” He got a hold of one of Jared’s arms and used it to pull him upright. “Trust me, do you know what kind of shit has gone down—” Before Jensen could finish Jared blanched again and bent over, the remaining contents of his stomach making an appearance.

All over Jensen’s boots.

Jensen let Jared go, the sound of a body hitting the ground registering somewhere, but Jensen was instead focused on tilting his head back and regarding the sky, which was dark but hardly star-bright. “You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me.”

He looked back down and Jared was curled into a ball again—he’d avoided the puke, which had Jensen annoyed at the unfairness of it all—sniffling a little.

Jesus it was hard to be pissed at Jared when he looked pathetic.

“Sorry, Jen,” he murmured, reaching out to pet Jensen’s knee. At least he hoped that was what Jared had been going for.

“Yeah, yeah. You are so scrubbing these clean when you sober up. With a toothbrush.” He pulled Jared back up again—and he should really get credit for doing even that considering the kid was a freakin’ sasquatch and Jen wasn’t doing so well himself with the whole even-keel thing—and held him steady.

“You gonna puke again?”

Jared shook his head no, hair all in his eyes and little frown in place. “I feel better,” he said, like it was a surprise.

“Gee, ya think?”

Jared looked down, catching sight of Jen’s shoes. He looked back up. “Oops?” he hazarded.

“You so owe me. For the gazillionth time. I officially own your ass or somethin’.”

Jared blinked. And snickered.

Jensen paused and winced. “Not…like that. Aw, hell am I gonna be glad when this night is over. Can you walk?”

“Fuck you,” Jared said, taking a couple steps forward…only to trip over the curb again. Amazingly, he righted himself before he hit the concrete, but it was a close thing with a lot of wheeling of arms and stumbling around.

Jensen couldn’t even laugh, that was how bad this was. Fuck. This was gonna ruin everything. Plus Jared was drunk so it wasn’t like Jensen even knew if it was a drunk thing or a general thing.

Oh, great. That’d be a fun thought to accompany him all night.

“I’m fine,” Jared reasserted, looking back at Jensen like he was the slowpoke lagging behind. “Come on.” He started off, walking none too steady, and Jensen just stood there and smirked.

Jared was quicker on the uptake than he looked, noticing Jen wasn’t with him soon enough and turning. “What?”

“Goin’ the wrong way, genius. Civilization is that way.” Jensen gestured back toward the Seven Grand and beyond it, Fig and the financial district. “Unless you want to buy me something pretty.”

Jared blinked, obviously dragging his gaze to the jewelry store he stood next to…and all the jewelry stores that surrounded him as far as the eye could see.

Probably why they called it the jewelry district. Go figure.

“Ooooh,” Jared said, very much like a two-year-old who’d had something shiny waved in front of his face. He stumbled up to the barred glad and pressed his face as close as he could get.

“Christ,” Jensen muttered, moving toward the lanky kid he’d apparently waylaid with a _joke_.

Jared studied the hand on his shoulder for a long moment, poking a finger at it curiously.

“Yeah, way past time to get you home,” Jensen said.

“Ummm, what city are we in again?”

“LA.”

“Pfft! Driving all the way to Studio City?”

“That’s my home, dude.”

Jared waved his hand and turned toward Jensen, looking very much like he was settling in for a nice chat. Which would be the opposite of moving. “Same difference.”

“Uh-huh. So, we’ll just go this way…” Jen steered him back in the right direction, Jared following his lead.

“I thought we were going to an after-after-party.”

“I nixed that a while back. You might have missed it.”

“Okay. Let’s go to a hotel then. We can have our own party.”

Jared smiled at him, all bright and brilliant and drunk, and Jensen had to focus on not groaning. “Or hey, not,” he suggested, pointing a finger at Jared and going for casual.

A finger which Jared then grabbed and used to yank Jensen over to him. Jen could have gotten out of it…but it probably wouldn’t be worth the effort. Also, his head was starting to swim and on top of the lovely headache already pounding he didn’t need anything else.

“Are you trying to avoid me?” Jared whispered, pinning Jensen with his eyes.

That was one thing about Jared; you could read him like a fucking book. Right now Jensen saw teasing and mischief, but underneath that was concern and something that looked a lot like what Jensen thought of as a Sandy-look.

“Would I do that?” Jensen asked, innocent.

“Cool. Off to The Standard!” With that proclamation Jared headed off—in the right direction—weaving like a thing that weaved.

“Ahh, man…”

Jensen caught up and took hold of an arm, subtly steering Jared forward. If he followed Jared’s lead they’d get there sometime next week.

Subtle ended up being both Jensen’s hands on Jared’s shoulders, pushing him forward.

“I can walk, you know,” Jared huffed.

“All evidence to the contrary.”

“Hey!”

“Hey, you know what would make this easier? If we had our cell phones and could call a cab,” Jen suggested. Jared stopped moving and thus Jensen ran into the back of him, getting a nice whiff of Jared and cologne and whiskey.

Jen gritted his teeth. Great.

Jared turned his head. “You’re such a chick. Way more of a chick than Sandy, _God_.”

Jensen kicked at the back of Jared’s knee—lightly—and propelled him forward again. “Ah, I love it when you make sense.”

Jared held out a hand, illustrating his point in the night air. “Bitching about something you already bitched about. Passive-aggressive. Chick.”

If he’d had a chalk-board it would have read A + B = C. Jensen pulled his hands back and Jared promptly stumbled now that he no longer had Jensen propping him up.

He was getting used to the sight of Jared on the ground. At least it took care of that pesky height difference.

Jared turned his head and looked up at him with a wicked smile. “While I’m down here…”

The effect was akin to a pail of ice-water cascading over his head. Which Jensen had personal experience with seeing as Jared had done that to him. In winter. In _Canada_.

Fun times.

“C’mon, up!” Jensen said, crooking his fingers in a ‘come here’ gesture.

“Anything for you, baby.” He lifted a hand for some help up and Jen grasped it from long-time practice. One haul up…and Jared was back on his ass again.

“Okay, so you’re gonna have to help me out here ‘cause carrying you all the way there is not gonna happen.”

“Not a strapping young man anymore, are ya? You’re getting _old_.” Jared giggled.

“Fuck you.”

“You promise?” he asked, finally letting himself be hauled up and ending eye-to-eye with Jensen, a wicked glint to his green eyes.

Jensen quickly backed up, running a hand across the back of his neck. “Where’s a cab when you need one?” he asked distractedly, looking around at the completely barren streets. They were getting closer to the financial heart of the city so at least the streets weren’t trash-strewn here.

But they were empty.

“There’s probably a pay phone. Somewhere,” Jared said, staring steadily at Jensen. For all that he couldn’t walk or talk any sense, he had _no_ trouble eyeing Jen up like a prize stallion.

And he didn’t need _those_ images, either, thank you very much.

“Do you have any change?” Jensen asked, sticking to the safe topics.

Jared’s forehead crinkled in thought. “I might have a nickel.”

“I don’t think you can make a call for a nickel.” He looked around. Hope Street should be up next and then they were pretty close to the hotel and blessed people who would keep Jensen distracted and far from jumping his very pretty, very shit-faced costar.

Yeah.

“Think you can make a phone call with a credit card?” Jared asked.

“I think the fact that I don’t know says a lot about me that I don’t like,” Jen replied, gruff, again steering Jared in the right direction and getting them moving. Movement seemed to be the key, as much as Jared kept resisting it.

“Oh, don’t say that. It’s not like we’re coming from Hyde, dude.” Jared patted the hand Jen had on his shoulder, going for reassuring. Jensen hated so, so much that it was just more of a turn-on.

“Yeah, Lindsay Lohan wouldn’t step foot in Seven Grand. She’d get confused.”

“See! You liked it. I knew you’d like it. Score one for the J-Man.” Jared bounced his head and his hair flipped around and Jen found his eyes wandering to the hair, so he figured he really needed to start looking other places and make sure the fuzz wasn’t about to up and bust them. Or something.

Or hey, if they did get arrested, that’d probably mean he _couldn’t_ jump his very pretty, very shit-faced, very tempting costar. The cops had a headquarters somewhere around here, right?

See, when you started looking _forward_ to the mean men with the handcuffs…

Movement. Lights. Safe topic: “Oh, look. It’s a really big street. We’re almost there.”

“See, there’s _hope_ left.” Jared snickered, playing with the name of the street. Like, _badly_.

“Okay, that was horrible.”

Jensen tapped his foot while they waited for the light to change. Jared alternately snickered or swayed. Or both, he was versatile like that.

Then the light changed and Jensen had to navigate him across Hope with a hand pretty well anchored in Jared’s jacket in an attempt to get Jared not to fall down again and get them both run over. ‘Cause then they’d actually become a MADD video and he was pretty sure that wasn’t the direction Theresa was envisioning for him and also, death didn’t sound very fun.

“I like downtown,” Jared started up again, waving a hand at the surrounding buildings. “It’s not so bad.”

“Tell that to the five people who were murdered here last night.”

“Dude, do you like _anything_?” He held up a hand in an exaggerated stopping motion, which he could amazingly do while still walking. “No, wait. You like me. Never mind!”

“Who says I like you?”

“You kissed me,” Jared pointed out, looking over at Jensen with a gleam in his eye.

“You kissed _me_ and it doesn’t matter anyway since you won’t remember in the morning.”

Jared’s legs stopped moving at Wilshire and a pout took up residence on his face as they waited for the light. “You think?”

“God I hope so. Blacking out sounds like a fuckin’ dream come true right now.” The light changed and Jensen prodded him on, getting them moving at a pretty good clip. He could see the lights of 6th up ahead and damn, salvation never did look so sweet.

“Hey! I will have you know I’m a great kisser.” And there Jared went again with the nonsensical.

“Sure you are.”

“I have skills.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jared put the brakes on again and whirled on him, only saved from falling sideways by the hand he got tangled in Jen’s jacket. All the same, Jensen ended up taking a lot of Jared’s weight…which wasn’t inconsiderable or anything.

“Jared, what the hell—”

Then Jared’s hand was holding Jensen’s face still and Jared was watching him very seriously. “I’m a great kisser and you like me,” he said, very slowly, eyes fixed on Jen’s lips.

“That’s great and all, but can I remind you you were puking not half an hour ago? Pretty sure you’re gonna kill me here, dude,” Jen choked out, scrabbling at anything since Jared’s grip was pretty close to unbreakable. Apparently he could still concentrate in certain areas.

And Jen wasn’t thinking any further on that subject.

Jared considered this, smacking his mouth open and closed a couple times, tasting himself, before nodding meditatively. “Yeah, you got me there. There’s food at the hotel, right? ‘Course there is.” He slung an arm over Jen’s shoulder and they staggered forward, Jensen glad for the reprieve, Jared back on the topic of liking LA.

“I’m serious, I think we should buy property down here.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You liked Seven Grand. There are all sorts of little new bars popping up.” They finally crossed 6th and trudged their way to The Standard, the bellmen—to their credit—not even blinking when the two of them weaved to the front doors.

“Hi guys! What’s goin’ on?” Jared asked them, getting polite nods in return.

“I think they’re tired,” he whispered in Jen’s ear as he steered them through the lobby and to the front desk.

“I think they’re afraid of the twelve-foot cracked-out puppy maniacally waving at them at four in the morning.”

“I am not on crack,” Jared protested. The lovely woman behind the counter cleared her throat and Jensen smiled at her tightly.

Jared turned and fixed his attention on her. “Do I seem like I’m on crack?”

She paused a beat. “Room for two?” Smart lady.

“With really big beds.” Jared spread his hands wide. “Maybe only one.” He turned to Jensen. “Are you still in denial? Do we need more than one?”

“Is there any way we can get different rooms? Maybe on different sides of the hotel?” Jensen asked quietly.

“No,” Jared said, drunk-loud, getting the attention of the few people milling around the lobby at four in the morning.

“Well, I have one room with two queens. Will that work?”

Jared snickered. “I think I saw a TV show like this once.”

“We’ll take it,” Jensen said, handing her his credit card. “Can we get a wake-up call at 7:25?”

“Of course.” She started typing things in the computer and Jared started getting antsy. First he tapped his fingers on the counter, then he tapped his foot. Jensen was waiting for him to bust out into the mambo…

“Do you have food?” he asked her, hunching down to look her in the eye.

“Room service closed at eleven and the restaurants are closed for the night.”

“But we could, like, raid the kitchen, right?” Jared asked, completely serious. Jensen rubbed his temples.

“There’s a mini-bar in your room,” she suggested, ever the diplomat. Seriously, Jensen needed to write a comment card about how good this chick was. He wouldn’t be this composed when faced with this Jared.

Hell, _he_ wasn’t this composed when faced with this Jared.

“Excellent,” Jared said, a happy puppy.

She handed over the keys with a sunny smile that spoke all about getting them out of her hair. Oh, how Jen felt that.

Jared skipped to the elevator, practically vibrated on the ride up, hummed to himself as Jen opened the door, and flopped onto the nearest bed with a sigh. But then he was up again and in the mini-fridge, stuffing M&Ms into his mouth immediately.

“Mmm, chocolate. Want some?” At least, that was what it sounded like.

“No, thanks. Okay, we need to be up at the lot by 8am, so we are leaving this hotel by 7:30.”

“What time is it now?”

“4:30.”

“Cool. Wanna make out?” Jensen flicked his eyes up to Jared, gauging that yes, Jared was quite serious, even while crunching on chocolate. And still drunk.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Jen said carefully.

“Why do tomorrow what you can do today?” And then Jared was bouncing next to him on his bed, licking a hot stripe up his neck and pushing at Jen’s jacket.

“No way, Jared, I—” His next thought was cut off by, guess what, Jared’s tongue in his mouth. For the second time in one night.

Jared pushed him back and sucked on his tongue, all abuzz with energy, and it took Jensen a couple long moments to find the strength to push him off. “I—uh. Jared,” he said sternly, when Jared moved close again, fingers tracing down his chest and slipping under just where the shirt rode up.

“Mmm-hmm,” he mumbled, eyes following his fingers, mesmerized.

Jensen stilled his hand by covering it with one of his own.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he repeated, knowing that in the harsh light of day, in the harsh light of Jared’s monumental hang-over, it’d never happen. Which maybe wasn’t the best way this could end, but was the most career-wise. Theresa would be proud.

It didn’t look like any kind of these heavy thoughts was about to occur to Jared anytime soon.

Jared grinned, alcohol-and-chocolate-bright. “Okay.” With that he slumped onto Jensen, boneless, making absolutely no move to move.

Jensen sighed. He supposed this was better than stripping Jared naked and doing all sorts of naked things with him, only to wake up in the merciless light of day…but man, did his fingers itch to do just that.

Then Jared shifted and made a soft sound against his shoulder and Jensen sighed, resigning himself to tomorrow. He settled in.

In three hours they’d go back to the status quo and things would be much easier, he was sure.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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